Cause I'm Danish
by The Nordic Losers
Summary: Denmark has a bit of a catchphrase problem: whenever somebody asks him a stupid question or just a question he doesn't feel like answering, he responds with 'cause I'm Danish. Little does he know where this will land him or what kind of fun he'll have in one of the most hilarious places in the world: THE BATHROOMS OF WALMART! **Rated T for some language/minor adult themes***


**I don't own Hetalia or anything else in this story. I don't own Walmart either. **

**This story seemed much better when I wrote it down on that Post-It note, oh shit here it goes. Reviews are appreciated although not expected. **

**And this story was written for Big Black, wherever he is. All I must say is thank you. And Stan. Stan was a nice guy...who loved being tickled and tickling. But that is an inside joke. So regard this as flaming dog shit if you have no idea what Stan/Big Black is. **

****Big Black isn't the one on Fear factory or whatever. My cousin made some dude up. That's all. And Stan..well...Stan is just...Stan?**** **

**OJo**

**.-. **

T

Denmark had just gotten home and saw Finland had passed out on the sofa. 'Great', the Dane thought, 'I'll have to shut up and keep quiet if I don't want Berwald in here choking me for waking up 'his wife'.'

Speaking of the Swede, Berwald walked in from his office down the hall and saw Denmark in the kitchen.

"H'lo," Sweden grumbled, setting down a folder and some important looking paperwork, "W'nd ya g't h'me?"

"I just got home like right now," Denmark said, crossing his arms and going into the kitchen.

"W'y?" Sweden asked, picking up one of the pieces of paper and taking it over to where Denmark was standing.

"'Cause I'm Danish!" Denmark couldn't resist it. Whenever somebody asked him a stupid question or something like that, he just had to go with 'cause I'm Danish. It was just priceless to see their faces. But Berwald had a good poker face, so whether he found it amusing or not he didn't show it. "No, I wanted some cereal."

"Ya c'me 'll th' w'y h'm 'or cer'l?" Berwald muttered, now standing right across from Denmark. "I n'd te' sh'w ya th's."

Denmark snatched the paper from Sweden and read it. It was some sort of bill for the last escapade he took Norway (less than willingly) to Walmart and bought a shitload of stuff.

"Why'd ya b'y s'vent'n th'gs of d'sh so'p?" Sweden asked, causing Norway to blush a little bit as he remembered dragging Norway down the hallway on the 'indoor slip n' slide'. Denmark had just been in his boxers, although Norway refused to take off anything, but Denmark still managed to get him in only his tank top and pants.

"Finland didn't tell you?" Denmark laughed as he began to explain it to the Swede, "I made an indoor slip n' slide. It was pretty boss."

"K," Sweden said, now realizing what the sticky blue sludge Iceland called 'washing machine shit' on the floor. Sweden was just glad it wasn't 'fridge shit'...or something else. "

"You know, I don't have time for this. I think I'm gonna just go to Walmart again," Denmark said, brushing past Sweden and eating a handful of cereal simultaneously. He quickly walked out and got in his car as Sweden tried to stop him from leaving.

Denmark drove down the road and raced a small woman in a Kia to the stoplight. Of course, the woman had no clue that Denmark was 'racing' her and just drove at a normal pace as the Dane sped past her only to come to a stop right beside a black car.

The man in the passenger side of the car was pretty big and pretty black. Denmark was pretty blunt sometimes, so he leaned over to the man in the passenger side.

"Hey Big Black!" Denmark yelled, waving his hands out of his car, which was slightly smaller than the one the other man was driving in.

"Why'd you call me that?" the man said, keeping up a poker face almost worthy of Sweden.

"'Cause I'm Danish!" Denmark said obnoxiously, waiting for the stupid light to turn green. True, he probably could have made it since it was on yellow as he pulled up, but screw that. He was dealing with Big Black now.

The man in the car bent towards Denmark and blew a puff of cigarette ash in his face. Denmark coughed and sputtered and choked out a pitiful "Why the fuck did you do that?"

"'Cause I'm Big Black." the light turned green and Big Black made the turn by Rawlder's Burger Shack. Denmark tried to get the ash out of his eyes one-handedly, since he didn't want to look like a little pussy man-girl who had just finished crying walking around Walmart.

Denmark pulled in the parking lot and ran into a shopping cart since he was tending to his face, tipping over a bunch of vegetables and Slim Jims that were inside it. A semi-stocky, blonde male ran over from the trunk where he was putting in groceries and came up to Denmark's car, which Denmark didn't see.

"That guy was such a dick," Denmark said, unaware that the man was right there. He thought that he just hit a shopping cart, which was nothing new for him. With the number of shopping carts he hit he should've had some sort of protective barrier around his car.

"What?" Denmark looked up and the angry blonde man was standing there as was a dark brown haired man as well. "What did you just call me?"

"Oh, um, that wasn't directed towards you." Denmark said, not liking being lower than the two men in the small Volvo.

"Like hell it wasn't. What kind of damn fool are you?" the brown haired man's face flushed as he asked Denmark the question. "You think you can just hit all our food and then try to pass it off as nothing?"

"No, I'm serious, it wasn't directed towards you," Denmark began to get out of his car and walk towards the store.

"You wanna go punk?" the blonde man said, coming up almost on Denmark. Denmark backed up and nearly fell over trying to avoid the brown haired man. Last thing he wanted to do was hit somebody else.

"Uh, no." Denmark backed up and headed towards Walmart as the two men began packing up their groceries again and muttering about him. Denmark wanted to turn back when the blonde hair man said 'Look at him go Ben, we really scared him today,' and the brown haired man said, 'Yeah look at that damn fool run, Ean. He's running like there's a cream convention.'

Denmark didn't quite know what a cream convention was and neither did he want to know.

When he went into Walmart there were only a few people there. He went down the ice cream aisle and decided to pick some up as a bit of a treat for the others when he got home.

He had just finished finding the ONLY type of ice cream (when he says only, Norway means ONLY) Norway would eat, vanilla. And it wasn't just your regular old vanilla, it had to be THE brand, THE type, THE right amount of calouries, THE right amount of fat, THE price, or Norway wouldn't eat it. If it were even 10 calories off, Norway wouldn't touch it. Denmark really didn't care and normally was the one who ate the ice cream if it were the wrong brand, although Sweden would occasionally (if he got home before Denmark) steal some of it as well.

As he moved towards the 'special' section to where Tino got his lactose-free crap, Mathias' cell phone rang.

"DENMARK!" It was evident it was Norway yelling. Denmark brought the phone farther away from his phone and waited for the screaming rampage to be over, "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"Um, Walmart," Mathias grabbed a container of mint-chocolate chip lactose free ice cream and put it in the basket calmly as Norway kept yelling at him about taking the car and how he needed to go to the bank and to the office to pick up some papers.

"WHY'D YOU GO THERE?" Norway's voice began getting lower and more dangerous sounding.

"'Cause I'm Danish." Denmark laughed a little, only adding to Norway's pissy mood.

"FUCK YOU AND YOUR DANISH-NESS!" Norway yelled, hanging up the phone. He wasn't sure why Denmark loved using that catchphrase so much, as it was kind of (wait, it WAS) annoying to Norway.

Denmark went in the men's bathroom and left the ice cream sitting in the basket inside one of the freezers, hoping that nobody would take it. It wasn't the security or anything he was worried about; it was the people taking his stuff.

Denmark went inside one of the disgusting Walmart bathroom stalls and pulled out his phone again. He was going to call Norge back and have a little...chat with him.

The phone rang a few times before he got Norway's voicemail "Hey you stupid bitch I know it's you Denmark...and anybody else just leave me a message. Whatever."

Denmark started singing (horribly off-key) _his _little version of "I Really Want to Love Somebody".

"Hey Norge, I got a song for you," Denmark said, beginning to sing his song, "_I really wanna fuck somebody, I really want to fuck the night away, I really want to fuck somebody, Especially you Norge, Especially you Nooooorge!" _

Denmark smiled as he finished his message, "You know you want some of this Danish action, Norge. 'Cause when you wake up in the morning, then it'll be 'cause your part-Danish."

"Dad!" a little boy in the stall beside Denmark flew out towards the sink area, "Why is that creepy man singing?"

"Because he's-" the man started, which Denmark finished with a loud 'DANISH!'

"That's just so-" the man tried to start his sentence again, but Denmark interrupted again with an even louder 'DANISH!"

"Let's just go and get-" the man started to get really fed up again as Denmark concluded with a booming, echoing 'DANISH!"

"You're just some little prepubescent kid sitting in there trying to act like a badass," the man said, standing right outside Denmark's stall, "I can't even explain how you could be so-"

"DANISH!"

"Ok, that's enough!" the man said, tapping his expensive looking leather shoes right under Denmark's stall. Denmark could see the kid's shoes, a light blue converse.

"Oh, and if I'm 'some prepubescent kid', then why do I have a deep voice and a dick so Danish you would vomit just looking at it?" Denmark said, chuckling slightly to himself as the man let out an exasperated yell.

"Let's go, Wyatt," the man and the young boy left, which cued Denmark to put the phone in his pocket and slide out of the bathroom and make his way towards the ice cream aisle again.

"Wyatt..." Denmark snickered as he headed back to where he left his basket. He picked up the rest of the ice cream and went home to an angry Norway, still-sleeping Finland, pissed? Sweden, and reclusive Iceland.


End file.
